


Untitled Teaser for upcoming fic

by Miss_Psychotic



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Biting, Established Relationship, Light BDSM, Light Masochism, M/M, Rookie Year, Snippets, kaners oral fixation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 08:28:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8365138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Psychotic/pseuds/Miss_Psychotic
Summary: Jonny’s not aware just how pissed he is until he launches one of his gloves into his bag, only to have it bounce back out again with the sheer force of his throw.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Mad thanks to Jax for betaing this for me! You are a gift to humanity!
> 
> Keep in mind this is a snippet from a larger piece I'm working on. I just wanted to get this out there and gauge the interest.

Jonny’s not aware just how pissed he is until he launches one of his gloves into his bag, only to have it bounce back out again with the sheer force of his throw.

 

It takes him by surprise when he realises his heart is beating wildly in his chest, breath huffing from his lungs and the shit show that was their performance bounced angrily around in his brain.

 

Too slow, sloppy passes, not enough pressure on the puck. 

 

He shakes his head to clear the thoughts; they aren’t going to help him calm down.

 

If anyone else in the locker room notices his mood, they don’t comment on it. Instead, the team gives a wide berth around their fuming Captain and gets on with their own pity party after a spectacular loss on home ice.

 

By the time Jonny’s in the shower, hands braced against the tiles and head hanging, heavy chin to chest, Kaner’s picking up what his Captain is putting down.

 

It’s almost like an extra sense by now, something in his gut or the back of his brain will bug him until he can get sight of Jonny and then he just  _ knows _ . After rooming with him for more than a year and learning his moods and expressions, Kaner is the master of Jonnyisms. 

 

“You okay, Cap?” Kaner asks, voice concerned as he takes the shower head next to the brunet, as standard.

 

“Fine,” Jonny replies, pushing back off the wall and turning his back to the blond. 

 

“Rude.” Kaner teases playfully, pushing buttons as he always does.

 

“I’m not dealing with you right now,  _ Patrick _ ,” Jonny shoots back, his voice changing on the blond’s name.

 

“Fine,  _ Jonathan _ .” Kaner mimics, also turning his back and proceeds to wash the grime and disappointment off his skin.

 

Kaner luxuriates in the shower, taking his time to  wash his curls with the special shampoo and conditioner Erica bought him. Shaving his face and moisturising, brushing his teeth and combing his hair, much more thoroughly than usual.

 

When he enters the locker room again, it’s empty, with the exception of his doe-eyed Captain.

 

Jonny sits in his stall; he’d managed to dry off and pull on a pair of clean underwear, but it seems he had no desire to put on pants or a shirt, which was a typical Tuesday for Jonny, the exhibitionist.

 

Kaner wishes he could be so blase about his body, but years of being the smallest in the locker room left him on guard around the bulk of his team. Not with Jonny though. Never with Jonny.

 

Kaner drops his towel and reaches for his own underwear, pulling them up thick thighs to rest the band on his small waist.

 

“You gonna get dressed?” The blonde turns his head to look at Jonny as he fumbles in his bag for socks.

 

“Not yet,” Jonny replies tersely.

 

“Well, you’re my ride, and I’m ready for bed, man,” Kaner tells him.

 

“Peeks... Pat,” Jonny starts to say, then stops.

 

“I know.” Kaner nods, straightening up, socks forgotten in his bag.

 

He walks gracefully over to Jonny’s stall, throwing a leg over the brunets lap and straddles him.

 

Jonny’s hands instantly move to Kaner’s hips, instinctively holding him in place.

 

“Need a little something before we go?” Kaner asks, voice dropping an octave to a deep rumble, practically purring into Jonny’s ear.

 

“Yes.” The older man huffs, clearly embarrassed by his need.

 

“Hey.” Kaner’s voice softens as he reaches forward to cup Jonny’s face in both hands.

 

“It’s okay to want it. There’s nothing wrong with it, or this... or us.” He tells the brunet firmly. “You’re not a lesser person for wanting it.” 

 

It was an old conversation that came up from time to time, Jonny hates being anything less than at his peak, relying on Kaner to help him achieve that made him feel weak.

 

Jon lets out a small huff of air and nods, doing his best to give Kaner a small, reassuring smile.

 

“I know.” He promises.

 

Kaner gives a bright smile back, one with his dimples popping and his eyes crinkling.

 

“Good. Now, where do we start?” The blond’s voice  goes low again, his hands tilting Jonny’s head back to give him more access to the tanned column of the older man’s throat.

 

Kaner presses light kisses from Jon’s ear down to his collarbone, before repeating the path back up to lips parting and tongue tasting.

 

“Kaner,” Jonny breathes, arching his back and pressing himself closer.

“Pat, please.” A shudder runs down his spine.

 

He grips harder at Kaner’s hips, pulling him tightly forward in a slow grind. 

 

“Please. Need it.” He’s nearly begging.

 

Kaner puls back, lips red and swollen from his work. Jonny’s face is flushed, spreading all the way down his neck and over his chest, heaving from his laboured breathing.

 

“You okay there, Cap?” Kaner says with a smirk.

 

“I’ll be better when you get your mouth back on me,” Jon replies, reaching out to fist a hand in blond curls and urge Kaner’s mouth back onto his neck.

 

***

 

“Please. I need it.” Sharpy pauses at the door from the media-safe locker room to the team-only locker room, ears straining to figure out what he’s just heard.

 

“You okay there, Cap?” That was Kaner’s voice, sounding smug, which was unusual after a loss.

 

“I’ll be better when you get your mouth back on me.” And that was Jonny and, whoa, okay.

 

Sharpy has his suspicions about those two, the whole team does. They’re young, co-dependant, and weird about each other in ways Sharpy had never seen before. It’s been brushed off as rookie bonding to begin with, but now, it was harder and harder to ignore.

 

They seem to communicate without talking — batting of eyelashes, unimpressed looks and poking out of tongues somehow conveying an entire conversation across the locker room or ice.

 

“Pat.” Jonny’s breathy moan fills the air and Sharpy takes a quick step back.

 

He suspected, but never really thought they’d actually be fucking.

 

“Yes,  _ Jonathan _ ?” Kaner replies, equally breathless but the tone is pure sex and, eww, Sharpy did not need to know what Peek’s bedroom voice sounded like.

 

“Please.” Jon is begging now, small, whimpering moans as Kaner teases him. “Please, need it.” 

 

Sharpy sucks in a quick breath of air, he knows he should leave, but his damn phone is on top of his stall where he’d forgotten it. He made it halfway home before he realised.

 

A loud guttural moan of obvious pleasure makes its way through the door.

 

“Yeah, fuck. Kaner just like that.” 

 

“Christ.” Sharpy mutters under his breath, rubbing a hand over his face. Maybe he could sneak in and grab the phone without either of them noticing? His stall is pretty close to the door.

 

Taking a deep breath for courage, Sharpy presses the door open just a fraction, trying and failing not to seek the two youngsters out.

 

It wasn’t at all what he’d imagined.

 

Jonny is red and flushed, practically all over, with Kaner in his lap biting and sucking bruises into his neck and collar bones.

 

Sharpy frowns, he was certain the noises were from more than just a bit of kissing and hickeys.

 

Kaner pulls his mouth off Jon’s skin with a sucking smack, admiring the last mark hemade.

 

“Better?” He asks, panting softly from exertion.

 

“Mmmm.” Jonny hums, eyes closed, obviously content after... whatever the hell that was.

 

“Good. Now get dressed, I’m fucking starving. You’re buying me dinner for making us stay back so late.” 

 

Jonny lets out a low snort of laughter and reaches out to pinch Kaner’s side.

 

“You don’t need any more padding, Kaner,” he teases.

 

“Fuck you, Mr-I-worked-out-so-hard-I-was-puking-at-12-years-old,” Kaner retorts teasingly.

 

Jonny gives Kaner what Sharpy can only describe as  _ fond heart eyes _ before the older man backs away slowly from the door. If they’re leaving soon, he’ll just hang out in the hall and make it look like he was just coming in for his phone when they’re a little more dressed and presentable.

 

***

 

Kaner jumps and rushes to pull his shirt down, covering his chest and belly as Sharpy bursts into the room.

 

“Oh hey! I didn’t think anyone was still here. I left my phone,” Sharpy explains, reaching for it above his stall.

 

“Oh yeah. Stayed back late to work on some stuff,” Kaner lies, shrugging.

 

_ ‘Uh huh. I bet you did,’ _ Sharpy thinks. 

 

“Cool well —”

 

“Ready for dinner — oh... Hi, Sharpy.” Jonny feels his stomach drop and his heart rate kick up a notch.

 

“Just forgot my phone. How come you never take  _ me _ to dinner?” Sharpy teases, trying to keep the situation as normal as possible.

 

“Clearly, you’re not pretty enough,” Kaner supplies, playfully batting his eyelashes.

 

“Lies. Everyone knows I’m the prettiest on this team, Peeks — hell, even the entire NHL.” 

 

“I think Lundqvist would have something to say about that,” Jonny grumbles.

 

Sharpy gives Jon a mock-wounded look. “Jonny? How could you shame me so?” 

 

Jon rolls his eyes and reaches for his hoodie, pulling it down over his shirt.

 

Sharpy catches a flash of bruised, red skin along his collarbones but deliberately doesn’t say a word.

 

“Well, kids, you enjoy your dinner. Daddy has to go home and sleep.” 

 

“‘Night, Sharpy.” Kaner and Jon chorus as he departs, certain they got away with their earlier activities.

 

Sharpy has plans though, and they involve a certain defense duo and a shit ton of alcohol. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are love.  
> Feel free to drop on by to my tumblr and say hi or talk fic with me!  
> misspsychoticfics


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